


Addled

by PotionMastersBitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Play, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionMastersBitch/pseuds/PotionMastersBitch
Summary: Thanks to a potions accident, via the Weasley Twins, Severus's mind is addled and that of a toddlers. Albus, busy with the war and finding a cure, has no choice but to place his favorite young man in the hands of Sirius Black. Watch as the two former enemies slowly bond, along with a healthy helping of Remus to boot!





	1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore shook his head slowly, utterly perplexed as to the meaning of the potions 'notes' laid in front of him. Written in a shorthand that could only be intelligible to its author, the contents of the notebook were scrawled about the pages at random, on one sheet a spidery cursive with smeared ink and on another a hurried manuscript applied without any regards to the lines embossed on the muggle paper. How Albus would ever be able to cure Severus of his potions accidents with notes so illegible, was almost beyond his scope of understanding. It might take weeks along just to decipher what the various shorthand scribbles could mean, and that timeframe alone was without taking into consideration the effort and time it would take to care for the afflicted Severus.

"Abus?" A tentative voice called from the floor.

Albus looked downward to where Severus sat on his purple rug, his black eyes overfilled with tears as he stroked Fawkes's colorful feathers.

"Yes, Lamb?" The Headmaster spoke softly, not wanting to agitate the already disgruntled man.

"You cwoss with me?"

The Potions Master hid his red face in Fawkes's wing after the question had been asked, evidently fearful Albus would retaliate to his bad behavior with a fearful punishment.

"No," Albus soothed, rising from his desk to kneel in front of the man, "I understand why you were so upset."

"I breaked your toys." Severus sniffed, smearing snot into an unamused Fawkes's plumage.

Albus glanced at the ruins of his desk, to where a significant amount of his magical artifacts lay in ruin. Now comprised of ash and smoldering, the silver curios had not been powerful enough to withstand the heat of the powerful Slytherin's tantrum.

"So you did," Agreed Albus, patting the inky hair, "But I dare say I had much too many."

There was some truth to the statement, as the Headmaster had earlier that week been struggling to decide which objects he should relinquish to the newly-opening Museum of Magic in Israel and which he, himself, should keep hold of.

"I bitted you." Severus hiccuped, wrapping his boney arms about the phoenix's fat neck.

At the awkward grip, Fawkes squawked indignantly, looking quite prepared to avenge Albus with a nip of his own to the offending fingers. Intervening before matters could dissolve into such chaos, the Headmaster untangled Severus from the bird as gently as he was able. Sensing his freedom, Fawkes hurried away, alighting softly on a perch well without the reach of human hands. Sniffing his disdain at Albus for having allowed him to suffer such mishandling, the magical beast turned to his back to his master and immediately set to work at smoothing his ruffled feathers.

Severus, now deprived of a shield in which to hide his shame, burst afresh into tears of frustration and prostrated himself on the rug, burying his anguished face into the wooly fabric he was so allergic to. Not wanting to aid hives to the list of troubles plaguing the young Head of House, Albus used wandless magic to help him pull the sobbing Slytherin into an upright position. Distraught at his sudden lack of agency, Severus made to rise to his feet, only to have his efforts thwarted by Albus pulling him into his lap. Infuriated all the more with such a childish treatment, Severus began to make attempts to wriggle free of the arms Albus now used to confine him to his lap, going so far as to struggle valiantly for a quarter of an hour until, at last, he finally realized he would not be released as he so ardently wished.

"Hush now," Albus hummed kindly, "There's a good boy."

Thoroughly exhausted, the potions enthusiast now lay as limp as a rag doll in the Headmaster's embrace, his breathing ragged as he slumped against his chest as cried openly. Pitying the wretched man, Albus hugged him closer and began to rub small circles upon his heaving back, humming softly all the while he did so.

"I sorry." Severus wailed, shamelessly burying his face in Albus's pink robes. "I no try to be bad."

"No, no," The Headmaster refuted in a singsong voice, "Severus is not bad."

Conjuring a soft flannel from the bathroom, Albus used his magic to dampen the cloth with warm water. Upon testing the temperature on his own rest and fighting it conducive to calming, the mugwump then set about wiping clear the snuffling man's anguished face.

"In fact," Albus purred, "Severus is a good boy."

"Me?" Asked a small voice, full of doubt.

"Yes, you." The Headmaster grinned, wiping away the snot that had dripped from his employees nose. "It is not your fault you've been...mind addled."

There was no better word for the series of bizarre events that had lead to Severus becoming mentally deaged. For not only had Albus yet to receive a satisfactory answer as to how something of this sort could occur, so too had he failed to deduce the proper sequence in which such a catastrophe did occur. If he was to have understood the evasive Gryffindor prefects correctly, and Albus was sure he did not, the whole hellish affair began that morning as Severus taught a sixth-year potions lesson. On that fact alone, at least, all witnesses could agree. Where things became fuzzy, via purposeful obstruction or outright ignorance, was literally everything that happened after Lee Jordan set off a Dung Bomb beneath a Slytherin prefects chair. If said victim of the smelly assault was to be believed, either Fred of George had used the diversion to pour a yellow potion into Graham Montague's already compromised Soothing Draught. If Angelina Johnson was to believed, despite her guilty expression, Montague's potion had become volatile on its volition. That such an illmade concoction had erupted directly into her professor's face was merely an unfortunate accident, Katie Bell blushed, and altogether avoidable had the man not been in such a hurry to investigate the matter.

Having not been able to spare anytime in deducing the truth from reluctant and outright hostile students, much less discipline them, Albus had left the task to Minerva as he had rushed Severus down to the hospital wing to be examined by Poppy. It was only once Severus had been given a relatively clean bill of health from the Mediwitch that Albus had thought to deduct 150 points from his own house atop of the detentions with Filch he had already awarded the entire Gryffindor portion of the class with.

"Don't want to be addled." Severus sniffed miserably, wiping his nose on Albus's silken robe.

"You'll be restored just as soon as I can decipher your notes." The Headmaster promised, planting an affectionate kiss atop his spy's brow.

"How long?" Severus whined, repeating the question he had been asking all day.

"Not a moment longer than necessary." Albus sighed, wishing once more that Severus hadn't been rendered unable to read his own notes.

The notorious curmudgeon whimpered miserably at the unsatisfying answer but, to his credit, did not dissolve into another fit of tears. Instead he leaned into Albus in an utterly exhausted fashion, his eyelids drooping dangerously as he rubbed at his eyes with potion-stained fists.

"No, no, Severus." Albus forbade. "You must not fall asleep just yet."

"But I tired." He complained, casting puppy- dog eyes.

"I'm afraid that will not work on me, my dear boy." The Headmaster frowned, racked with guilt for what he was about to do.

"Abus-" Severus began, a begging tone lacing his words.

"I am very sorry, my dear boy." The elderly man frowned. "But I have already told you that you cannot stay here with me- no matter how much we both may wish it."


	2. Chapter 2

Sirius Black scowled petulantly as he flopped down hard upon the couch in his living room, an overfilled glass of firewhiskey in one hand and a bag of crisps in his other. Setting aside his disappointment and evening snacks on the end table, he kicked up his bare feet unto the antique coffee table and rifled in the silver sofa cushions until he located the magazine he had hastily stuffed down there upon Molly's latest impromptu visit to drop off the jumper she had knitted him. Blushing profusely at the embarrassing memory of having been caught with the latest edition of Wanton Witches, Sirius took the minor precaution of draping a yellow afghan over his frame before returning to page 13. There, in all her naked glory, lay the Ursula Jefferson, a half-veela with lips pursed in an alluring smile that seemed to dare her viewers to try and look away.

Sirius was halfway through unbuttoning his tightening trousers, prepared to lose such an impossible battle, when his floo sprang to life and stifled all the excitement and arousal from his person. Cursing loudly, he righted his clothing in the space of seconds and hastily returned the incriminate magazine to its hiding place before kicking off the blanket.

He was not a moment too soon, for mere moments later Albus Dumbledore stomped into his living room with a weeping potions professor in tow. Sniffling grotesquely and clinging to the elder Gryffindor as if his worthless life depended upon it, the Greasy Bat wailed all the louder as he was dragged away from the fireplace.

"I don't want to, Abus." Snape bemoaned, struggling to free his boney arm of Albus's rather tight grip.

"Severus Tobias," The frowning Headmaster lectured, quite firm, "I have had more than enough of these dramatics. I have already told you that you must, and so you shall."

At such an uncharacteristically brusque dismissal of his feelings from the usually indulging Dumbledore, Snape winced and sucked in a markedly shaky breath, his face turning all the redder as he allowed himself to fall into an unseemly lump on the floor. Having evidently already lost his patience with the collapsed man long ago, the powerful wizard ignored the self-described 'theatrics' and made no move straighten the distraught man as he sobbed into the floorboards.

"Sirius," Albus began, quite somber, "Might I have a word with you?"

As the ancient mugwump had already dropped by unannounced, bringing with him the odd package of a hysterical Slytherin, Sirius saw no way in which he might refuse the Headmaster his request without earning any significant reprisal.

"Of course." Sirius bonelessly agreed, acutely aware that the Headmaster was in no mood for arguments of any nature.

With a nod of acknowledgment, the wrinkled man lowered himself into an armchair and gestured for Sirius to take a seat on the sofa he had so recently vacated. Quick to obey, Sirius fell lazily into the plump cushions and tried not to gawk at the Bat, not wanting to appear as impolitely curious as he was actually was. For former gruffness with his spy aside, he knew full well that the Headmaster's relationship with Snape was of a fatherly nature, of a strength and composition that forbid the elder man to suffer any unprovoked slights to his charge.

"Could I get you anything to drink?" Sirius questioned, taking a sip from his own beverage.

"No, thank you." Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes devoid of their usual twinkle.

Sirius swallowed a rising lump in his throat and tried to panic as he helplessly entertained the unfounded idea that the Headmaster inexplicably blamed him for Snape's discomposure. For once innocent of such a victimless crime, the inferred accusation might have been insulting had not the slighted party been so powerful and capable of great retribution.

"What of Sniv...Snape? Would you like me to fetch him a drink?" He asked, blushing at his near slipup.

"I do not believe that alcohol is a wise choice for Severus just now."

Sirius was about to reply that alcohol might be the best option for someone so forlorn when, at the last moment, he saw a flash of something dangerously akin to anger flicker across Dumbledore's wizened face. Self-preservation kicking in, he bit down the cheeky retort and stared down at his toes as he waited for Albus to speak.

"Both I and the Order have great need of you." Dumbledore announced, unusually direct.

Sirius startled at the graveness of the statement but quickly recovered, not wanting Albus to think he was making light of a situation so severe.

"I live to serve the Order." He assured.

Dumbledore nodded once more before returning his gaze to Snape, his frown deepening as he took notice of his employees trembling body and erratic breathing. No longer blubbering quite so loudly, having forgon the wails for sniffles, the sight was now pity-evoking where only moments before it had been uncomfortable and awkward.

"What has happened?" He demanded, when the Headmaster's silence stretched on too long.

"The Order has lost its spy." Albus educated, sighing as Snape began to wail anew.

Despite his resolve to remain strong, Sirius blanched, the gravity of being without an informant far from lost on him. Hatred for Snape aside, he was far from dismissive of the invaluable role the unpleasant man for the Order.

"How?" He demanded, taking a generous swig of firewhiskey.

"While accounts of the event greatly vary, one thing is painfully clear." The bearded man began, speaking loud to be heard above the sobs.

"Enlighten me." Sirius frowned, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"It appears there was a potions accident this morning." Albus explained. "Severus's mind has been addled."

At the mention of his name, said man hiccuped loudy and rose to a sitting position so that he might glare openly at the Headmaster. Accurately sensing that such an act of disrespect was going largely ignored by its intended target, the displeased Death Eater rose to his feet and stumbled across the floorboards to collapse at Albus's feet. Not done with such childishness, the Slytherin buried his face in the colorful fabric bunched at his employers knees and sobbed something unintelligible into the folds of fabric.

"Don't tell me this isn't reversible." Sirius all but begged, looking in disgust upon the tantruming man.

"If it takes a year, I will see this undone." Dumbledore avowed, soothingly patting Snape's oily hair.

Leaning into the comforting touch, the filthy man sniffled and wiped his nose on the silken, all too unaware of the impropriety of such an action. Grimacing in disgust, Sirius tore his gaze away from his nemesis and once more locked eyes with Albus.

"And what will we do in the meantime?" Sirius interrogated, worried at the major setback their warfront was facing.

"Do not fret so terribly," Albus insisted with a knowing smile, "I dare say the Order's needs for a spy were coming to a close anyways."

"This is news to me." Sirius scowled, gripping his glass tightly.

"You must not feel too left out." Dumbledore cajoled. "Apart from Severus and I, nobody else is aware of such good news."

"And why is that?" Sirius growled, outraged on behalf of the other Order members.

"Why, it's quite simple." Albus assured, leaning back in his chair. "You see, I would not care to be pestered with questions I cannot, as of yet, answer. I would so hate to jeopardize the plans I've so carefully constructed."

While the answer was quite unsatisfactory, it was fair, and so Sirius put all thoughts aside of wheedling from the Headmaster a more detailed explanation.

"What part am I to play, Albus?"

Dumbledore blinked at the question, looking slightly confused.

"I dare say these plans are mine alone to see finished."

It was with no small effort that Sirius refrained from rolling his eyes.

"You said the Order had great need of me, did you not?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Indeed, I did." Albus agreed, patting his distressed potions master on the head. "More specifically, this specific Order member has great need of you."

As anyone might have expected, Severus visibly bristled at the suggestion that he should require anything of his nemesis. Wanting to ascertain that such an insinuation was far from appreciated, the young man even went so far as to bite the fold of skin right above Albus's kneecap. Had it been a naughty student, or anybody else, he might have spanked them for such an unneeded and undeserved assault to his person. But as it was, his assailant was Severus, and he would no more raise his hand to the now-afflicted boy than he would have to his sister Arianna during one of her notorious fits.

"What could Snape possibly need of me?"

Dumbledore frowned at the sharp tone but did not scold, the young Gryffindors irritated confusion more than understandable.

"Until the effects of the potion are reversed," Albus recited, "Severus will have the reasoning and emotional capabilities of a toddler. His physical capabilities have also, unfortunately, been quite regressed."

"I not addled." Severus whinged, crying afresh as he grabbed up large handfuls of Albus's robes in his fists.

Having already had the selfsame debate seventeen times since the early morning, Dumbledore ignored the outburst and instead leveled his gaze upon the startled Sirius.

"How is Snape being...'addled' any of my concern?" The Animagi questioned, a growing suspicion beginning to show in his grey eyes. "Send him to St. Mungo's."

At the mention of the hospital he dreaded so intensely, Severus let free a shrill cry that might have put Pomona's mandrakes to shame. Having grown accustomed to such disharmonious outbursts in the space of several hours, Albus did not so much as flinch at the random expulsion of noise, but rather set about to rubbing soothing circles into the fussing man's fatless shoulder. Sirius, to his credit, only grimaced and looked away from the absurd scene.

"He is not safe at St. Mungo's. Should rumors of Severus's status reach him, Voldemort might send someone to fetch in order to keep secrets from being inadvertently shared."

Severus flinched as his Dark Mark burned at the name, and squalled all the louder as Albus inwardly scolded himself for his momentary lack of judgement.

"So send him to Molly's." Sirius readily advised.

"The Burrow is not as secure as Grimmauld Place." Dumbledore gently reminded, flinching slightly as Severus's fingernails dug into his leg.

"I stay at Hogwarts." The Occlumens insisted, desperation in his voice. "With you."

The heartfelt plea nearly broke his heart in twain, and it took all of Albus's resolve to not give in and ferret his boy back to his office at Hogwarts. But as it was, there was only so much time available in the day and such a measurement seemed to growing shorter and shorter as the war raged on. As tragic as it was, Dumbledore would simply have no time to mind the addled Severus- not if if he was to oversee the winning of a war and concoct a cure for said addled man.

"He'll have to stay with you."

"No!" Severus yelled, clinging ever tighter to Albus. "I no want to stay with him!"

"Severus-" Albus began.

"Please!" Shook Severus. "No make me!"

Had Albus been a weaker man, he would have wept right there alongside the distraught manchild. But he could give into no such temptations, for there was a Horcrux to be destroyed at midnight and interviews to be conducted in the morning for a replacement potions professor. What more, Dumbledore knew that if he caved now and allowed the anguished man one more night at Hogwarts he might never again work up the nerve to place his precious cargo with Sirius. For while he did not doubt that Severus would be safe enough within the confines of Grimmauld Place, the nagging doubt that emotional neglect occur in his absence was troubling him.

"Why can the Hospital Wing not keep him?" Sirius growled. "Is Hogwarts no longer safe?"

"Hogwarts is as safe as she has always been." Dumbledore assured.

"Then leave him there!"

Severus recoiled at the harsh voice and pressed ever closer to Albus, childishly hiding his face within the many folds of fabric, clearly of the belief that if he could not see that which troubled him said thing existed no more.

"Madame Pomfrey already has the responsibility of overseeing the care of hundreds of students, she does not need a toddler to look after as well."

Sirius gave an animalistic growl at the reasonable response and slammed down his glass of firewhiskey unto a fragile end table, causing the ancient furniture to wobble precariously. But if the young Gryffindor held such decor in any esteem, he did not show it as he fell back into the sofa cushions with a defeated expression.

"For a year?" The exonore interrogated. "An entire year?"

"Circumstances willing, I will have a cure well before this year has ended. I was merely being cautious in my estimations, as it is far better to be pleasantly surprised than it is to be taken unawares with unpleasant developments."

If Severus had anything further to contribute to the conversation, he chose not to make it known. Uneven breathing aside, the Slytherin had already been suspiciously quiet for a marked amount of time, his fingers no longer clinging so desperately to Albus's person.

"I don't know how to care for a child." The remaining Black fibbed, eager to be given a reprieve from the task he saw as a burden.

"You often cared for Harry when he was near this age." Dumbledore gently refuted.

"Harry never hated me."

Dumbledore could not argue with such truthfulness, as there would be no point in trying to convince the Marauder that caring for an addled man who despised him entirely was exactly the same as caring for a toddler who adored him.

"I will not tell you that this assignment will be without difficulty. Indeed, it was be rife with troubles and tribulations." Albus began. "As you have just witnessed, Severus is in a very volatile state, in need of great patience and understanding. Should you not be able to provide such human decency to said man, the trials will only multiply."

"However," Albus continued to sermonize, "I believe you are more than qualified for this task. I would not have asked for your participation had I had any true doubts as to your ability to care for Severus. While others may believe you childish, I know you to be a man capable of great things when duty calls. Or," Albus paused, "Am I misguided as to the nature of your character."

A proud man, Sirius had no choice but to admit to Dumbledore was not wrong as to the contents of his character.


	4. Chapter 4

What exactly can I expect with taking care of Snape?"

Sirius spoke quietly, not wanting to awaken the aforementioned man who had finally dozed off to sleep with his oily head in the Headmaster's lap. One could only take so much bellowing, after all.

"As I said before, Severus has the functionings of a toddler."

Thus said, the wizened old man drew from the inner pocket of his robes a large moleskin pouch. Not waiting for any inquiries, the candy-enthusiast began to remove several items for the embroidered container. First to see daylight was what appeared to be several jars of powdered formula. At Sirius's bewildered look, the Gryffindor blushed.

"Severus has never been a terribly good eater." Albus explained. "Poppy suggested we supplement his food intake with a nightly bottle."

"And by 'we,' you mean me."

Dumbledore blushed but continued on with his unveiling of products, pretending not to have heard Sirius's remark. But he did not have long to dwell on the irritation that such bad manners brought him, for moments later the Headmaster had brought forth from his pouch a lion plushie. Possessing matted fur and a half missing tail, said toy had very clearly been well-loved throughout the years.

"I find Mufasa has worked great wonders in soothing a distraught Severus."

As Albus had only had an addled Snape is care for less than a day, the condition of the plushie gave Sirius pause to wonder just how long the lion had really been in the Death Eaters company. He was willing to bet real money that it was at least a decade of more.

The next items to be withdrawn were several Calming Draughts, along with quite a few bottles of Pain-Relieving potions.

"Do try and use the Calming Draughts as sparingly as you can." Albus implored, gesturing at said bottles. "It wouldn't do to upset Severus's stomach."

Sirius nodded at the sage wisdom, then looked pointedly at the remaining potions.

"Ah, yes. Feel free to use those as often as needed."

"Will they be needed often?" Sirius pestered, not wanting to deal a manchild in constant pain.

"Only when his Dark Mark burns." Albus frowned.

Refusing to elaborate any further on such an unsavory topic, the Headmaster plunged his wrinkled hands into the sack and removed a muggle notebook.

"I filled this full of advice on how to care for Severus. Should you have a question when I am not immediately available, the answer will be within these pages. Do be sure to read it through before the morning."

Sirius nodded and accepted the lavender notebook with relief, pleased to have been a study guide for such an arduous task.

"Is that all?"

"Not quite." Albus blushed, pulling free the sack a package of nappies.

Sirius recoiled visibly at the sight, readily prepared to revoke his self-avowed oath of putting the needs of the Order before himself. There was simply no way, in hell, that he was going to be changing the nappies of a grown man. He would much rather go back to Azkaban then face the degradation of keeping his nemesis's nether regions clean.

"Sirius-"

"No."

The Headmaster leveled him with a powerful look until Sirius lowered his gaze to the floorboards.

"Yes, Sirius." The powerful wizard corrected. "As of now, Severus is unable to recognize when he needs to use the loo. While he make use of the toilet if kept on there long enough, the fact remains that he is largely incontinent. He will need to be changed. If, however, you cannot bring yourself to provide such delicate cares, other methods must be employed. Might I suggest Kreacher?"

While the House Elf wouldn't like such an assignment and would grumble endlessly about such a task, there was no way around it. The irritable elf would either act as Snape's nurse or find himself freed.

"Anything else I might need to know?"

Dumbledore shook his head and gave Sirius a frown. "I am afraid you'll have to learn as you go."

Sirius sighed at the uselessness of the advice, but nodded his thanks, wishing all the while that finishing his drink was no longer out of the question.

His dreams of firewhiskey were promptly put out of head, however, as his new ward began to snore softly.

"We should probably get him into bed." Sirius suggested, feeling more than a little awkward.

Nodding, Albus rose slowly to his feet and scooped the slumbering man into his arms without any significant strain on his part. Figuring a Feather Charm had been employed for such a purpose, Sirius bit back his offer to carry the load and instead lead Dumbledore through his manor and into his bedroom.

"The only way to get into the nursery is through the master bedroom." Sirius explained, catching sight of Albus's bewildered face.

Albuse nodded his understand, allowing Sirius to shove open the aforementioned door. Having not been used in decades, the oaken door protested against his actions, going so far as to squeak loudly it's protests before finally yielding and allowing them access to the room it guarded.

Having not been inside said room since he was three, and promptly moved into a bedroom of his own, Sirius blinked at the distinct Slytherin tones of the nursery. Walls painted a brilliant emerald, its borders were decorated with a myriad of serpents, the majority of them silver with dazzling red eyes. Not content with those reptiles alone, a horrifically gaudy mobile displaying a colorful horde of the horrid creatures hung above the wooden crib. If Sirius remembered correctly, and was not just conflating his nightmares for reality, the foul beasts would even hiss at you if you dared to grab at them.

"How lovely," Albus pipped, strolling about the warm room, "Severus shall like this very much, I think."

Sirius grimaced, taking in the rest of the magically warmed room with no small amount of distaste. Nestled safely in the corner directly opposite the crib was an oaken changing table, of the variety which was embused with a powerful magic that prevented its occupant leaving without the concept of one in charge.

In between those two particular pieces of furniture was a ceramic bin, readily infused with a wonderful charm that kept all hints of stench and orders at bay. A small mercy for Kreacher, thought Sirius, as he continued to rove his eyes about.

Having quite forgotten all about it, the small fireplace resting in the center of one all took him a bit by surprise, thinking, as he did, that such a thing was quite dangerous to have in a room where a baby slept. But, as it was, the stone fireplace was surely overburden with powerful safety charms to keep all risks at bay- just as everything else in the room was.

Near the fireplace rested a delicate rocker, heavily cushioned both seat and back. Frowning, Sirius thought he could vaguely recall Kreacher dropping him one evening as he read to him from "The Tales of Beatle the Bard." Regulus had been born then, and the giggling toddler had been jostling for a better position in the elf's lap, completely oblivious to the way his errant and chubby arm had knocked his brother from his place. Sirius might have cried when he hit the floor, he did not remember. What he did recall, however, was Kreacher snapping at him to stop, "being so wiggly," and to, "sit still and listen to the book."

Shrugging the memories away, Sirius allowed his fingers to brush against the quilt draped over the back of the chair, marvelling at its warmth and quality as it had been in the Black Family for more than a century. Created by Pleiades Selwyn, upon first giving birth to yet another Black hier, the woman had started the tradition of sewing a square patch of fabric for every Black child born. A rose for her Ursula, a daisy for Cassiopeia, a burning sun for Copernicus and finally, a raven for Hydra.

Curious, Sirius trailed his eyes down the quilt until he found the bottom, where he knew he and his brother's patch would be. He was not surprised to find his square displayed a scorpion with its stinger poised and ready, his father's hopes that he might be a warrior evident in the choice. He was, however, quite surprised that it had not been burned away or cut from the cloth by his irate mother. Had she simply forgotten the task, or had she been unable to part with the last vestiges of her eldest son's memory? Sirius highly thought it the former, before moving on to look at Regulus's square. It was a burning candle he saw, frowning at the discovery. Had his mother known, even then, that her youngest child was cursed to expire far to soon?

Unwilling to become choked up over thoughts he had squirreled away long ago, he turned back to Albus and found him maneuvering Severus into the crib, taking great care to pile the silver blankets over his skinny frame.

"He was getting heavy." Albus explained, brushing greasy strands of hair away from his employees still-red face.

"Did...did you nappy him before bringing him?" Sirius whispered.

"Of course I did." Albus frowned, defensive. "I know how to care for a child."

Sirius jerked at the sudden harshness, unused to such emotions coming from the headmaster.

"Forgive me, Sirius. I am only worried for my boy." Albus apologized, kissing Snape on the forehead. "He is in a delicate state, and I do not like to leave him of the care of someone else."

"I understand." Sirius assured, desiring to put the Headmaster at ease.

"See that you do." Albus implored. "For I will be stopping by daily to check on him."

Sirius blanched at the thinly-veiled threat, but nodded, letting it be known to the elder Gryffindor that his message was not only understood, but taken to heart as well.


	5. Chapter 5

After enlarging everything in the nursery to a more appropriate size, Albus promptly made his departure citing a very important mission as his excuse. And while the elderly man had seemed more than reluctant to leave, he was at last compelled by the checking of his watch to make his leave.

Sirius was now left on his own and, despite himself, he soon found himself seated upon the rocking chair and staring at his new charge with a certain morbid curiosity. Still in the robes he had been addled in, in was quite the strange sight, indeed, to what looked like a grown man lying asleep in an enlarged crib. The peculiarity of the situation was only magnified by the way the unconscious Snape clutched his aged plushie up to his face, one set of potion stained fingers curled around the lion's grimy tail and the others stuck in his drooling mouth.

Having been all but threatened by Dumbledore to take exemplary care of the man now in his charge, Sirius rose to his feet and shuffled very slowly toward the changing table. Carefully sliding open one of its drawers, he fumbled around in the darkness until his fingers at last landed upon their desired object. It was a silver dummy, embossed with dozens of emeralds in the shape of a serpent which also boasted rubies for eyes. As Lily had never allowed Harry to suck on his fingers, for fear of germs both magical and muggle getting into his system, Sirius felt the need to impose the same rule upon Snape. It wouldn't do, after all, for the Bat to get sick under his care.

Slinking silently through the darkness of the room, Sirius found his way to the crib without incident and pulled down the wooden slats on the side directly facing him. When such actions eliciting no movement from the snoring individual currently residing within the cozy of the crib, he became emboldened enough to gently tug away the errant fingers. When that yielded no complaints, other than a particularly loud snore, Sirius decided to test his luck and gently coaxed the soothing device into the Slytherin's mouth.

Sensing all was now well, Sirius slowly backed way, hoping to find his way into his own bed for the evening. Unfortunately for him, Snape had other designs. Either alerted by the slight squeak of the floorboards made by Sirius as he made his retreat, or alarmed at the sudden sensation of a foreign object in his mouth, the Bat jerked once and then awoke with a start.

At first, confusion was the primary emotion displayed on Snape's face. But when the realization came that he was in a dark, unfamiliar room, within a crib he had never before seen, fear took the place of confusion. Moving quickly, in the hopes he might avoid having to deal with a full-blown panic attack, Sirius once more lowered the bars and was prepared to offer a few words of comfort to the man. But it was all for naught. For as soon as Severus spied the man he hated most standing over him, all feelings of fear turned into a panic so sheer that Sirius thought he might faint.

Not knowing what to do, as his movements alone had alarmed Snape so greatly, Sirius just stood there stupidly as Snape made whimpering noises and backed himself into a corner. It was only once Sirius sneezed that the wailing and theatrics began afresh.

"Abus!" The manchild wailed, trembling greatly.

"He had to go." Sirius explained, taking care to keep his tone even.

"I want him." Snape cried, lower lip trembling quite pitifully. "It's dark!"

Fumbling about in the dark, Sirius managed to start a fire within the fireplace without much difficulty, banging his shin only once on the rocking chair he had just vacated. Stifling a curse as his shin throbbed, as he knew that would only further upset Snape, he hobbled over to the crib with the vague hope he might coax the Bat back to sleep.

"There now," Sirius sighed, "You have some light."

Snape was far from satisfied with the proclamation. Repeating his demands for Albus, the hysterical man worked himself into such a tizzy that his breathing became irregular and he vomited all over himself. Grimacing at the mess, that he would now have to deal with, Sirius resolved to calm the man before any more messes could occur.

"Calm down, calm down." Despite himself, his suggestion came across as an order.

"I don't want you!" Snape raged, chucking the dummy at his head. "I want Abus!"

"He said he'd come to see you tomorrow." Sirius assured, rubbing the eye Snape's projectile had hit. "So enough of this. Albus won't be very happy to see you if he knows how naughty you've been."

At the prospect that his behavior might be displeasing to the Headmaster, Snape startled and was, for a moment, silent.

"Now, what woke you up?" Sirius questioned. "Are you hungry?"

"I want Abus." Snape sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Sirius sighed and rubbed his temples, resolving to remember that his charge was addled and not at all in his right mind.

"He will come tomorrow, Snape." Sirius assured, going into the closet to pull out of the sleeping shirts Albus had sent with him.

Though Dumbledore hadn't given him an exact time, Sirius opted not to give such an unsatisfactory answer to his temporary ward.

"When he's done with work." Sirius assumed, approaching Snape with the black sleepshirt. "Now, let's get those dirty robes off."

Still crying heartily, Snape glared heavily at him. "I can do."

"Let me help you." Sirius demanded, not wanting a mess.

But, true to his stubborn nature, the Slytherin had already made moves to pull the teaching robes up over his head, effectively getting vomit all over his face and hair. Tossing the filthy clothing unto the floor, the potions enthusiast held out his dirty hands for the sleeping shirt.

"Look at the mess you made!" Sirius barked. "You've got vomit everywhere!"

Rather than dissolve into his tears as he had been wont to do, Snape jerked up his chin into the air in a gesture of disrespect. Resisting the urge to respond in kind and thus aggravate the situation, Sirius scowled and grabbed up a handful of baby wipes from a drawer in the changing table.

"You can dress yourself just as soon as I get that vomit off you."

"I can do!" Snape declared, grabbing for the wipes.

Sirius was about to bark at the tantruming man that he could do no such thing, not if he wanted to make a mess, when he collected himself and remembered he was dealing with a toddler. As such, he surrendered just one of the wet wipes to the Slytherin.

"Get your fingers and hands." Sirius suggested.

As Snape made to comply, clumsily dabbing at the chunks of vomit clinging to his fingers and palms, Sirius approached and moved to clean his face. Aggravatingly enough, he managed only to touch wipe to skin before the Slytherin caught wind of what he was doing and shoved him away with an added kick for good measure.

Cursing loudly as the booted foot made contact with his thigh, Sirius caught the edge of the crib to keep from falling over to the floor.

"Do that again," Sirius wheezed, "And we're going to have problems."


	6. Chapter 6

Sirius felt ashamed as Snape stiffened at the threat, his fear clearly resulting from the fact that the Bat seemed to have finally realized he was all alone and without Albus to intervene on his behalf. But as guilty as the whimpering made him feel, which was actually quite some amount, he resolved to take advantage of the situation by quickly cleaning the cowering Snape before he had time to grow angry again and retaliate.

"Are you settled down now?" Sirius hummed, slowly rising to his feet as the pain in his leg gradually faded.

Snape nodded slowly, sniffling as he swiped away the tears that kept falling from his eyes.

"Then let's get you clean, hmm?" Sirius asked, taking care to keep his tone soft and free of resentment.

Snape stuck out his bottom lip at the suggestion, but argued against reason no longer. In a gesture of surrender, or perhaps despair, the Slytherin folded his hands into his lap and looked down away from Sirius's face.

"I'll be gentle." He promised, pressing a wipe to his charges face.

Wanting to make good on that promise, Sirius gently swiped away the foul slime coating Snape's face, taking great care all the while not to rub too hard. Compliant, the petulant brewer even turned his head up so that his chin could be better cleaned. It was only once Sirius moved to clean the greasy hair that Snape found his voice again and began to wriggle.

"You're pulling." He accused, jerking away.

Though Sirius was fairly certain that he hadn't been doing any such thing, he took care to be even more gentle as he worked to clean the oily strands unfortunate enough to have found themselves coated in the mess.

"Try and hold still now." Sirius requested, moving on to the neck.

Snape scowled ferociously, but obeyed, whimpering only once when Sirius's fingers accidently got caught in his overly long hair.

"There," Sirius smiled, quite satisfied with himself, "All clean."

Wanting to affirm that for himself, Snape reached up and touched his face and hair with his left hand. When he realized he hadn't been lied to, the shadow of a smile flickered across the addled man's face before quickly disappearing.

"You did a good job, a very good job." Sirius praised, feeling more than a little awkward but wanting to avoid a tantrum so late in the evening. "Now, do you think you could stand up for me? We need to get those trousers off."

While Snape had glowed at the compliment, his expression turned thunderous at the innocent request. But rather than holler his refusal, the distraught Slytherin simply shook his head.

"You've got vomit on them." Sirius reasoned, pointing at a green splotch staining the knee.

Following the direction of hi finger, Snape looked down and saw that he had, indeed, made a mess of his trousers. But rather than make matters simple by standing as requested, the prideful man snaked his fingers down to the clothing and tried, in vain, to unfasten the button.

"Could I help?" Sirius asked, when ten minutes had elapsed without sufficient progress.

Snape colored profusely at the shameful, yet accurate, insinuation that he could not undress himself and looked close to tears as he moved his clumsy fingers away from the offending button. Hared now replaced with pity, and perhaps a little compassion, Sirius kept his eyes averted as he made quick work of the task. Pushing his luck, he even went so far as to undo the zipper.

"Alright, stand up now." Sirius encouraged. "Let's get those dirty things off."

Mercifully, Snape moved to obey- rather slow but obedient all the same. Awkward on his feet, and unsettled by the plushness of the mattress, the Potion Master might have toppled to the floor had Sirius not caught him by the waist and steadied him.

"Put your hands on my shoulders." Sirius offered, wanting to avoid any major head traumas on his first night as a guardian.

Snape moved to obey, either terrified himself of falling or simply wanting to get this hellish ordeal over with as quickly as possible. Whatever the reason, Sirius was grateful for its existence and ardently refused to curse his luck by thinking too much upon the matter.

"Here we go." Sirius grimaced.

Much too big for a man of his small stature, the black trousers came down easily with just one tug, the thick fabric falling easily to its owner's skinny ankles. In attempting to kick himself out of the soiled garment, Snape placed all his meagre weight against Sirius's shoulders and wriggled, moving about freneticaly until, at last, he was successful. Exhausted from the efforts, perhaps mentally as well as physically, the Slytherin allowed himself to fall back unto the mattress with an ungraceful plop- effectively expelling quite a bit of urine from his already unacceptably swollen nappy.

"I cold." Snape suddenly stated. "Want my nightshirt."

Stoking the fireplace so that the room would warm more, Sirius stood stupidly as he debated as to what his next choice should be. Did he simply suggest that Snape might need a new nappy, or did he wait for the man to discover it himself? Thankfully, or rather not, Snape answered that conundrum himself by holding out his hands for sleeping shirt.

"Just one moment." Sirius stalled. "We need to get you...cleaned up first."

"Already did." Snape reminded him, crossing his boney arms across his chest.

Sirius shook his head and felt a blush spread across his face.

"You're wet." He managed, rueing the day Snape had ever been placed into his care.

To be quite frank, to say that the Occlumens was wet was an understatement. For the white nappy was so engorged and yellowed with liquid, the urine was now dripping out from the leg holes of the improperly fastened garment.

"Am not." Snape stated, indignant at the very thought.

"Take a look." Sirius requested, gesturing at the discolored protective wear.

Despite his adamant denial, the wetness indicator strip glowed bright green and betrayed his lies. At first indignant, then surprised, Snape now sat in abject mortification- too embarrassed to move, much less cry.

"How long did Albus keep you in that thing?" Sirius demanded, absurdly outraged on behalf of his ward.

Sirius stared down at the Death Eaters lap, his eyes instantly directed to the red bumps that were already beginning to form where the urine had leaked. That Dumbledore, of all people, would be so irresponsible as to allow such a thing to happen on his watch was unfathomable. Why, if Sirius had even thought about returning Harry to James and Lily in the condition, Azkaban would have seemed a far better alternative to what the parents would have done to him.


	7. Chapter 7

Severus lay alone within the confines of his crib, at once terrified of all the encompassing darkness surrounding him and mutually miserable as the state his neglected bottom was in. Given that the room he now resided in was utterly windowless, he could not even say for sure just how long he'd been left to wallow in his absolute misery, only that it had been a long while and he would met the last vestiges of his dignity at least four hours had gone by without any reprieve coming his way. Biting down hard upon his balled up fist, so that his sobs might not further enrage his warder, Severus turned slowly upon his tummy in the hopes that such a position would relieve some of the burning sensation in his nappied area.

But it was of no use, and he could only grimace as the fabric squelched loudly and let loose a trickly of yellow liquid unto the silver pillowcase he had earlier shoved beneath himself to keep from leaking unto the silken sheets and plush mattress. Longing to exchange such an abject misery for a cruciatus, or even a killing curse, Severus lay perfectly still and silently cursed himself for having ever striked Black in the face when said Gryffindor had made to drag him to the changing table.

But how could Severus be blamed, after all, when such a degradation all but called for violent reprisal. Why, he ruminated, could Black not have simply removed the offending object before leaving him alone to don a clean one? Was that really too much to ask, too much of a hassle? For once in his life, couldn't the Gryffindor have taken mercy on him and made efforts to understand his humiliation.

As the stinging only increased with every passing moment, Severus frowned deeper and began to really reflect on why it was so unwise to have punched Black. For started, he thought to himself with a sniff, nappies of the magical variety simply did not allow their wearers to open or close them. As such, how could Severus have reasonably expected to swap his soaked garment for another without any help? Beyond that, how could he reasonably expect Black to believe him when he claimed he could clean himself, when only moments before he could not even remove his own trousers? As much as he despised said man, it was absurd to believe him so dense as to believe such delusions.

Groaning, he turned unto his back once more and tried valiantly to forget the stinging cold that plagued his nether regions. While he had fallen asleep within the first hour of being left on his own, or rather sobbed himself to sleep, it had not been long before he had reawoken to a warm sensation betwixt his legs. And while that had worked to relieve some of the vast discomfort the coldness had brought, the urine had soon cooled and brought back the stinging sensation. While such a thing might have embarrassed him at first, his misery was not such that any shame was a minor concern to what he was now facing.

At a loss as to what to do, he snaked down a hand in desperation and tried to loosen the tabs with his clumsy fingers. When the tabs didn't give, as he knew they wouldn't, he wiped his soaked fingers on the quilt and sat up, hoping the new position would lessen his boredom if not his discomfort. When the action yielded little result, other than to drive pee up his back, Severus gave into his distress and let loose the torrent of tears he had been holding in for fear of reprisal and embarrassment.


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius was still wide awake, holding a cold compress to his wounded lip, when the distinct sound of wails alerted him to his charges suffering. And while he wanted to do nothing more than let the overgrown child sit and (literally) stew in his misery, Sirius knew he could do nothing of the sort. Neither his conscious, nor his fear of Dumbledore, would allow him to do something so cruel. He had already, after all, left Snape alone for five hours. Surely such an irresponsible move on his part was punishment enough for the Slytherin. As badly as getting punched his nose had hurt, which was quite a lot, Sirius could hardly imagine how painful the Occlumens bottom now was. He inwardly cringed as he thought of what Albus might do to him if he should discover how he had so sorely neglected his employee for so long.

Hurrying out of bed, and nearly tripping in his haste, Sirius nearly jumped through the door into the nursery before quickly recalling that Snape was now easily spooked. Taking care to prevent such an event, he drastically slowed his steps and rapped twice on the door before stepping into the toasty room.

He found Snape backed into a corner of his crib, sitting upright and sobbing as quietly as he could into the bleakness of the warm. Having extinguished the fire when he first left the Bat on his own, figuring his adult mind would object to being left with a nightlight, Sirius struggled to rekindle the fire in such vast darkness.

When at last the flames sprang to life, the sudden light threw into focus just how extreme the anguish Snape felt was. Eyes bright red, and mouth contorted in a horrific grimace, the amount of distress was clearly of a great amount, though he did take great care not to vocalize too loudly his discomfort.

"Hey." He called, stepping gingerly in the room.

Startling, Snape removed the fist from his mouth and looked at Sirius with wide, fearful eyes. Clearly expecting some great retribution for his previous crimes, which would have been an accurate assumption before he had become addled, the Bat grabbed up a plush pillow and hugged it tightly to his chest.

"I sorry." He trembled, his voice quavering.

"I know." Sirius assured, approaching slowly. "I'm not angry."

Doubtful, but too terrified to argue, Snape simply continued to tremble.

"Are you ready to be reasonable now?" Sirius asked, kneeling down in front of the cowering man.

A tremulous nod was his answer, as well as a sniffle. Having thus gained the confirmation he needed in order to feel comfortable proceeding, Sirius lowered the bars of the crib and slowly held out a hand to the crying man. To his great surprise, the Potions Master took the proffered hand, albeit very hesitantly.

"Come on now, up you get." Sirius coaxed, tugging lightly.

Snape frowned, but allowed himself to be pulled unto his shaky feet. Sensing that his ward was unsteady on his feet, Sirius lead him along slowly, bit by bit, until at last they arrived at the changing table. As the Feather Charm had likely already worn off, he briefly considered casting another before ultimately deciding pulling his wand would only frighten the man. And, on the whole, such an action would likely be very unnecessary as the man really was quite scrawny.

"Up you go."

Thus said, he seized the Slytherin beneath his armpits and hefted him unto the table. Flinching as the sodden garment was unceremoniously pressed up against him, Snape let forth a startled cry but quickly quieted himself.

"Lie back now." Sirius cajoled, gently pushing on the man's bare chest.

Snape blushed powerfully, and covered his face with hands before moving to obey. Once prostate, he began to cry heavily, painfully mortified.

"I'll be quick." Sirius promised.

As promised, he made quick work of ripping the saturated garment off the malnourished body. Tossing the smelly thing into the bin with one smooth movement, he turned back to examine the damage done to Snape and winced at the sight. Red and mildly blistered, the violent rash covered quite a lot of surface area. Wanting to mitigate the damage before Dumbledore could come and investigate, Sirius rifled in one of the table drawers and located the large jar he was looking for. Grandmother Agatha's Bum Paste. Around for more than two centuries, Sirius knew the goop to have worked wonders on Harry when he was small and suffered the occasional minor rash. He could only hope it work on one as severe as Snape's.

"This should help." Sirius tried to sooth, screwing open the lid.

Scooping up a generous portion unto his fingers, Sirius took a bracing breathe before beginning to apply the thick, pastel pink colored cream unto Snape's upper thighs, taking care to rub in the thick paste with gentle circles. Wriggling at the sudden coldness, his charge gave a small squeak but otherwise made no protest.

When at last the cream was suitably applied, Sirius moved on to the most awkward part of the evening- that being of soothing the most intimate parts of Snape. Deciding to trudge on through, while he had his ward complacent, he lowered his eyes and blindly applied the topical treatment.

"There." He declared, relieved when it was finally over.

Still covering his face, Snape only sniffed. Taking that as permission to continue, Sirius reached into yet another drawer and pulled out of the nappies Albus had provided. Frowning at the plainess, as well as the geriatric nature of them, he selected one at random and pulled it free from its dusty confines. Placing the top portion of the sterile fabric against the upper portion of Snape, he left the other end unattached so that he could attend to said man's bottom.

"Turn over, please." Sirius requested.

His addressee obeyed quickly, yet clumsily, and had the table not been magically charmed he would have surely fallen off. Now greeted with the not-so-pleasant sight of Snape's pasty white arse, Sirius grimaced but made quick work of slathering the heavy paste all over the rashy bum. Knowing that sensitive area would be completely covered with the nappy, he didn't bother with massaging the cream into the blistered skin.

"Turn back over." Sirius coaxed.

Moving into the desired position, Snape began to cry harder and further hid behind his hands. Taking pity, Sirius moved as gently as he could and sealed up the boring garment with practiced perfection.

"All done." Sirius found himself crooning. "Now, if you could just sit up, we'll get a nightshirt on you."

.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaving Snape alone, after having convinced him to take a seat in the rocking chair, Sirius left the door to the nursery cracked open as he hurried throughout the confines of Grimmauld Place and into the kitchen. As Dumbledore had already proven at least somewhat inept in childcare by leaving his much-favored employee in a sodden nappy, Sirius could only assume that the Headmaster had also been neglectful where feeding had been involved. And, if for any moment he might have doubted those assumptions, the way Snape's belly had continued to rumble as Sirius changed his nappy disabused him of those doubts.

Removing one of the containers of formula Albus had brought from the cupboard, he peeled off the purple lid and was promptly met with a very vanilla-ish scent. Curious, despite himself, he dipped an adventurous finger into the smooth powder and pulled it out before sticking it in his mouth. Finding its taste and consistency chalky, he gagged but nonetheless set the case of formula aside in the hopes that it would taste much better dissolved. Fetching a freshly scoured pan, he quickly read the instructions on the can before carefully adding three cups of water into the large saucepan. Grabbing a silver measuring cup, he then used said kitchen implement to measure out two cups of the formula before pouring it into the rapidly heating water.

As the nicely-scented concoction began to boil, Sirius opened the cabinet above the stove and fetched down one of the undecorated bottles Albus had left behind. Riffling about until he found a matching nipple, he brought it down and promptly checked on the now-boiled formula. Checking its consistency, and finding it as close to perfect as possible, he very carefully removed the pot from its boiler and poured its creamy contents into the bottle standing at ready.

Using his wand to cool the liquid to a more appropriate temperature, he meticulously affixed the nipple (so as to avoid leaks) and quickly made his way back upstairs and into his bedroom, having not felt exactly comfortable leaving Snape on his own in such a delicate condition- especially in the current moment, when said man seemed in a much more childish state of mind that he had upon his first arriving.

Rapping softly on the nursery door, which he had left cracked open, Sirius stepped softly within the room and found the Bat just as he had left him- still seated in the rocking chair, but now crying profusely whereas only moments before he had been relatively fine. Seeking out the reason for such a reaction, Sirius darted his eyes about the room but ultimately came across nothing that might have given Snape cause for anguish. Why, the faulty fireplace had not even gone out in his absence.

"Hey now, what's happened?" Sirius coaxed, kneeling slowly in front of the man. "Talk to me."

At first, the snivelling Slytherin like he might refuse to answer, either far too upset or perhaps embarrassed to formulate some much-needed words. Fortunately, after a long moment had elapsed, his ward rubbed the moisture from his red eyes and mumbled forth his reply.

"You left." He accused, sounding betrayed as he gazed fearfully upon the fireplace.

At once, Sirius knew the cause of his distress, having once been terrorized by the same fireplace in his early childhood. While the magnificent feature had been charmed to keep the flames from creeping into the room and endangering its inhabitants, the magic had been centuries old by the time Sirius had come around. As such, the flames housed within the fixture were very often wont to flickering and dying out. Though, much to the original charm caster's testament, no flames had ever been known to have escaped their stony confines.

"I went to get you something to eat." He soothed, patting his charges knee. "Were you afraid the fire would go out when I was gone?"

Snape nodding his reply, the ancient Black quilt held tightly to his cheek in a childish attempt to garner what little comfort he could. But knowing the thick covering to be far more showy than it was comfortable, Sirius shuffled over to the oaken chest at the foot of the crib and pulled free a much softer blanket the color of butter.

"Here," Sirius smiled, "Take this and let me have that scratchy old thing."

Without much fuss, the red-faced man surrendered the patchworked heirloom, clumsily dropping the object to the floor as he eagerly accepted the yellow blanket in its stead. Holding the lightweight cotton fabric to his drool-coated mouth, the Potions Master seemed to have momentarily forgotten his caution and uttered a question that sounded suspiciously like Mufasa. Hoping his hearing proved correct, Sirius quickly fetched the much-desired plushie from the crib, rifling carefully through a small pile of damp blankets and topsheet until he found the lion stuffed beneath a suspiciously bare pillow.

"Here we are." Sirius hummed, pressing the toy into his charge's lap.

Snape actually smiled as he accepted the toy, and Sirius nearly dropped the bottle he was holding in surprise. It was quite the rare sight, after all, much like a solar or lunar eclipse. To be perfectly candid, he had not believed the Slytherin capable of such an action.

"He is quite the handsome lion." Sirius remarked, gently stroking the plushies age-matted fur. "Where did you find him?"

"Lily." Snape whispered shyly, nearly inaudible.

Sirius's smile only faltered a little as he heard the answer, the surprise of hearing his deceased friend's name uncontainable. But he recovered quickly, thankfully before the Occlumens had even taken notice.

"Well," Sirius remarked, still petting the toy, "Aren't you the lucky one?"

"He's mine." Snape stated, holding tightly to the lion.

Sirius was nodding his acknowledgements to the possessive statement when inspiration suddenly took hold. Drawing off his former babysitting experience with Harry and Neville, and the later's many previous tantrums, he tilted his head and looked curiously at the toy before putting his ear to the lion's crusty muzzle. Listening to the plushie 'talk,' Sirius nodded along and murmured his assents loud enough for the Spy to hear.

"What did he say?" Snape wondered mildly, entirely intrigued after only a few moments of the charade.

"Well," He began, "Mufasa here was telling me that you are hungry."

Sirius might have laughed at the look of sheer betrayal that showed on Snape's face, but wisely refrained with some effort, not wanting to upset the Slytherin by making light of his emotions.

"Don't be cross with Mufasa." Sirius humored. "He was only looking out for you."

"But he tattled." Snape accused darkly.

"Well, you two will have to discuss that later." Sirius declared. "After you've been fed and are back in bed. Stand up, now, please."

Still riding on the happiness of having received a new blanket, as well as the discovery that his plushie could speak, Snape complied quickly and nearly toppled over as his feet tangled up in the aforementioned blanket. Catching him without much effort, Sirius managed to stealthily maneuver the both of them into a sloppy half-circle, the minor rotation allowing him to steal the Occlumens spot right from under him.

Before said man could even begin to understand what was occuring, much less raise his voice to protest, Sirius firmly (yet gently) pulled him down unto his lap. When Snape began to struggle, as he assumed he would, Sirius pulled out the trump card he had been saving all evening for just such an occasion.

"Settle down, settle down." He sang, holding tightly to the wriggling bundle. "I don't think Albus would like to hear that you've been naughty- would he?"

At the mention of his beloved Father Figures imagined disappointment, Sna-Severus's eyes went wide. Still frowning deeply, his pout powerful, the Slytherin gradually slowly his movements until, at last, he was sill.

"I be good." Severus promised earnestly, looking terrified. "No tattle on me."

Pleased with the sudden complacency, Sirius awarded his new ward with a grin and a small squeeze. When Severus didn't grow outraged at the affectionate human contact, he felt bold enough to give the man's boney back a gentle rub.

"No, I won't tattle." He calmly assured. "Not if you're good for the rest of the evening."

"I be good." Severus asserted again, hugging Mufasa ever closer.

"I know you will." Sirius praised warmly. "Now, put your head on my arm."

Severus turned bright red, but slowly obeyed, squirming about in Sirus's lap until he was in a comfortable enough position to place his head appropriately. More than a little satisfied, Sirius skillfully draped the yellow blanket over his charge before grabbing up the still-warm bottle. Catching sight of the childish object, Severus whined and turned his head into Sirius's chest before pulling the blanket over his head.

"Severus," Sirius cautioned, "Albus won't like to hear that you've let yourself go hungry."

In truth, the Headmaster's wrath would much more likely be directed at him rather than his addled ward. But such was a reality that Severus, thankfully, did not comprehend. But as manipulative as the dishonesty of his words made him feel, Sirius wasn't about to go and lose his bargaining chip to uphold something so trivial as stauch honesty.

"Look, I know you're embarrassed." Sirius commiserated, rubbing Severus's stiff shoulder. "But I promise you, I won't tell anybody about this. I'll even let Dumbledore langlock me, if I have to."

Encouraged by such a serious promise, Severus slowly lowered the blanket hiding his face and looked cautiously up into Sirius's face. Desiring to show that he was earnest, he returned to direct eye contact and put all the sincerity he could into the gaze.

"But...I not hungry." Severus fibbed, mortified at the idea of being fed from a bottle.

Betraying its owner, the Slytherin's stomach growled quite loudly. Stifling his annoyance with Dumbledore for being so neglectful, on so many levels, Sirius gave his ward a very pointed (and stern) look.

"You are hungry." He corrected.

Defeated, and perhaps too worn out from the events of such a long day, Severus sighed and held out his hands for the plastic bottle. But as much as Sirius would have loved to relinquish ownership of the beverage to the brewing enthusiast, which was quite a lot, he moved the food out of the reach of his charge. It would not due for him to let the spy feed himself and subsequently choke himself via unfamiliar eating methods.

"I can do." The man in his lap proclaimed, looking highly wounded.

"No." Sirius said firmly, testing his luck.

To his great surprise, and relief, the stern tone worked to cow the Hogwarts employee before he could fuss. Nodding his approval for the docile behavior, Sirius moved his outstretched hand nearer and returned the bottle into Severus's line of vision. Glowering angrily at the offending object, and shifting uncomfortably, the mortified man did eventually open his mouth after a few minutes had gone by.

"There's a good boy."

Thus spoken, Sirius placed the nipple of the bottle into his charges mouth and wriggled it slightly until the Slytherin took the hint and closed his lips around object that so offended him. Dark brows drawing close at the unfamiliar sensation of the plastic in his mouth, Severus gave a large suck and gagged as a flood of milk rushed into his mouth. Spluttering, the skinny man shoved away the bottle and spat the liquid out unto his chest before glaring at Sirius.

"You need to go slowly." Sirius corrected gently, firmly placing the Professor back into position. "Try again."

Severus looked highly reluctant, but opened his mouth all the same after his stomach gave yet another powerful rumble. Taking Sirius's advice into consideration, he gave a tentative sip as the nipple was placed back into his mouth. When that method failed to choke him, he took another, then another, his speed gradually increasing until it became necessary for Sirius to pull the bottle away.

"Not so fast." Sirius corrected. "You'll make yourself sick."

Likely starving, Severus glowered but nodded, eagerly accepting the nipple this time. Pacing himself, he ate at a much more appropriate speed, keeping his eyes averted all the while but gradually relaxing within Sirius's hold. Satisfied with the breakthrough, he began to slowly rock the chair, mildly humming all the while.

"Is that good?" Sirius sang, taking care to keep the bottle tilted to prevent air bubbles.

Severus gave no reply, other than to melt entirely within his lap. Not wanting to distract the eating man from such an important feeding, Sirius remained quiet until the bottle was at last half-empty. Allowing a few more suckles, he pulled the bottle away from his ward when said man, at last, paused to take a breath.

"Time for a break." Sirius announced, setting aside the bottle.

Severus looked homicidal at such a development, and used his glare to demand an answer from the man feeding him. Smirking at the childish behavior, Sirius sat the ravenous man up before giving his explanation.

"We have to get that air out."

Clarification now delivered, he firmly patted the spy's back in a deliberate pattern, waiting patiently for a burp to erupt. Severus squirmed indignantly at such treatment, but Sirius held firm and continued all the same, entirely unwilling to deal with the hellish phenomenon of gas bubbles. And, as his charge had swallowed quite greedily, he knew such would be the result if he failed to burp said man.

"No more." Severus demanded, still wriggling weakly. "I no ne-"

Before he could complete his proclamation, a large belch came forth from his person, startling him still. Not wanting to taunt said man into a fit, Sirius neglected to comment on his victory and simply resettled Severus back into the crook of his arm.

Too excited at the prospect of finishing his meal to give voice to his grievances, the Slytherin opened his mouth and allowed the bottle to be returned to his mouth. Giving a small sigh, Severus measured his pace but still drank vigorously, his eyelids drooping ever lower just as the formula did.

When, at last, the bottle was completely depleted, Sirius repeated the burping process before returning Severus back into the crook of his arm. Given the rate at which his ward had swallowed the nourishing liquid, Sirius briefly considered asking him if he would like another before ultimately deciding against such a course of action. He didn't quite fancy the idea of stomach aches keeping the both of them awake. He opted, instead, to continue his rocking, moving rhythmically until a series of small snores began to sound from the slumbering Slytherin.


End file.
